Altered Reality

“TICK! TOCK!”

 Snapping out of my stupor I found myself annoyed at the sound.

Where is that coming from and why am I so annoyed?

 I was slumped over in a lazy slouch staring bleareyed at something in my hands. A twig I had been unceremoniously stripping the bark from was clutched loosely in my right hand and the fingernails on my left hand were dirty with grit from the bark. My index finger had begun to bleed from my efforts and the skin was raw around the nail from my practice of nervous chewing. I tried to clear up my blurry vision, staring intently at the twig as if somehow it would come alive and remind me what I had been doing previously or how I got here.

Everything was a blur lately and I felt somehow as if I had been drugged with a grey cloud that hung ever-present over my drooping head. The skin on my face felt tight and I reached up to feel salty traces of dried tears on my cheeks.

Great, I’m crying again; like always!

I couldn’t stop; I had cried so much lately that my face had subsided to a chapped, puffy version of my once stern, tight-lipped scowl. I never really knew why I was crying, and sitting here staring at the stripped twig had me just as baffled. My ever-present cloud consumed my memories and I would wake to consciousness, wondering how I had gotten where I was.

Annoyed at myself for my lingering weakness, I plunged the twig into the ground and angrily rubbed my eyes to clear my vision. I sat up and for the first time I glanced around to take in my surroundings. It appeared as if I was on some kind of movie set, something resembling an odd mixture of the forests from Candyland, Wonderland, and Oz. My curiosity piqued and I glanced around taking in the details. The tree I had been slumped up against was shaped just as carefully as all the others around and looked as smooth and rich as chocolate bark. The pale green leaves were fluffy and abstract, resembling cotton candy. Framed in their sweet embrace hung sumptuous red apples that shone with what appeared to be a candy covering as well. The grass was unrealistically green and soft to the touch. Not five yards away was an old-fashioned sidewalk, every slab a different color.

Am I on a Candyland set? I thought as I inhaled the sweet aroma of the air around me.

That must be it! I had a nose for drama and could act out a scene better than anyone I knew. In fact, most of the characters I imagined resided in my head, queuing me when it was my turn to crank up the drama, laughing with me and encouraging my sharp reactions to those around me that did not submit to my will.

Ah, someone had the sense to cast me in their movie and I am on set. Better find the director to run my lines again, don’t want him to look stupid for not being thorough!

Maybe my tears are part of the act and I just really got into character! Feeling suddenly light and slightly delirious I jumped to my feet, filled with glee at the thought of the spotlight revealing my hidden talent.

“TICK! TOCK!” The sound filled my head, startling me, and I pitched to the ground; my foot somehow stuck in the soft earth. Cursing with rage I rolled over to see what I had tripped on. Fresh bits of grass and dirt flipped everywhere as I drew my feet closer for inspection. I was wearing the most ridiculous-looking high-heeled boots ever! They were red with all the glitter and pizzazz of Dorothy’s shoes, while resembling the high-top boots from the early twentieth century that were built with tiny heels to ensure women could not run fast nor walk properly. The tiny, ankle-twisting heel has sunk down in the grass causing my fall.

“What the hell? I’m going to have a word with the director!” I spat as I glanced down at my thin figure to take in the rest of my costume. I was wearing an odd version of pantalooned overalls, decorated in a blue and cream checked pattern with a silly-looking, white-laced apron sewn to the frontside. Hanging from my neck was a simple gold chain with a small magnifying glass nestled against my breast. I reached up to find my hair had been drawn into a low ponytail and the strict part down the middle of my head was covered with some sort of hat. Pulling it off my head I choked in disbelief. They had me wearing a deerstalker hat, like the one Sherlock wears, only it was designed to match the pattern on my overalls.

“Wow, I’m some kind of Detective Alice Holmes nightmare!” I sighed, shaking my head in frustration. My joy at being a star in a movie dissipated with my mortification at this dumb-looking outfit. My arms were bare and I realized I was shivering. I clutched my arms around my thin frame and rose once again to hunt down someone I could share my disdain with over my strange array.

I tiptoed gingerly to the multi-color sidewalk, careful not to sink my heels into the soft ground. Thankful for the hard cement bellow my torturous shoes, I picked up my pace, determined to find someone to help me go over my lines and change out of this ridiculous costume.

“TICK! TOCK!”

I slowed my pace as I realized the noise was closer than it had been before. This time, the sound sent shivers down my spine and the hair on my neck rose. My annoyance for the sound was replaced with a shadow of fear and I stood still, unnerved. The unexpected volume left my ears ringing and my head began to ache. I was nervous. I had been walking for at least ten minutes and not much had changed in lieu of scenery. This set was way bigger than I had figured it would be. Determined to at least find another living soul, I picked back up walking; however, this time proceeding with caution, jumping at every little noise or touch of breeze.

Finally! The thick chocolate trees began to thin out and I found myself wandering into a clearing. In the middle of the clearing loomed the largest tree I had ever seen. It resembled the other chocolate trees, just in a more gigantic fashion and was covered in a green, gummy slime. At the base of the tree, nestled among the roots sat a circular, hobbit-looking door covered in green moss. Curious, I stepped into the clearing and advance tentatively towards the tree, aware of the goosebumps forming on my arms and the sweat pooping out on my upper lip.

“TICK! TOCK!” Blared the sound as if right next to my ear.

“What the hell!?” I screamed grabbing my head as the reverberation from the noise traveled through my skull pounding loudly in my ears. I was definitely closer to the source than I had been before! I stood reeling, trying to get my ears to stop ringing. I squeezed my eyes shut and massaged my head until I could hear the quiet rustle of candy-leaves again. As my hands dropped to my sides, I felt a sudden pricking on my skin and the hairs on my neck rose; I wasn’t alone.

Spinning around quickly I was frightened of what I would behold. Instead, I had to clasp my hand over my mouth to keep from bursting out in laughter. Standing a few yards from me was a huge costumed rabbit, similar to the creepy Easter Bunny everyone’s mom forces them take pictures with. He stood starring at me with a hollow, faraway gaze.

“Finally!” I said sharply, once I had managed to recover. “I have been wandering for far too long in these stupid heels, on this hopeless set looking for the director. Where is he?” I demanded.

 The goosebumps had not disappeared with the sudden humor and I couldn’t help feeling a little unnerved at the hollow stare I was receiving.

“Hello?” I shouted waiving my arms impatiently, trying to ignore my uneasiness and the lump forming in my throat.

 “TICK! TOCK!” came the blistering peel again starling both of us and breaking the strange staring contest. Throwing my hands over my ears I noticed the rabbit was holding the source of clamor. Dangling from his enormous paws was a shiny, silver alarm clock that was ticking away the seconds before it hammered out another painful blow of noise.

The racket had snapped the rabbit from his creepy stare and he was visibly shaken. His body quivered with a fearful tremor and his eyes began to dart back and forth. Creeping too close to me for my comfort he screetched in a high-pitched voice “Take it, take it!”

He tried to shove the alarm in my face and in desperation I batted the clock away.

“No! I am not taking that loud crap! I already have a splitting headache and I need help myself!”

Stepping even closer he whistled, “You must take it before it’s too late! You are here for one task and if you don’t complete it something very bad is going to happen!” I was close enough to see my reflection in his frightened eyes and couldn’t help feeling some sympathy for this pathetic creature-thing.

I swallowed the lump of fear and panic I was feeling myself and said, “Fine, I’ll take it but you have to help me get out of this weird set!”

He shoved the clock into my outstretched arms, knocking me off my feet, and before I could protest, he dashed away screaming “There’s no time for that!” He paused at the edge of clearing long enough to turn and gesture dramatically at the hobbit door in the gigantic tree. “Go, before it’s too late” he cried, then disappeared among the chocolate trees.

Dumbfounded at the interaction, I realized maybe I was going to have to do my best at ad-libbing for the time being until I could figure out what the hell was going on. I could play “Detective Sherlock Alice” for now until things stopped feeling so odd. I guess I had to figure out whatever that creepy rabbit was telling me to do.

I glanced down at the shiny object in my hands and noticed that the seconds hand was moving more quickly than your average clock.

Well, I guess I better start moving. He did say I had to hurry. Or I was out of time. Or was it that he was late for something? Trying to remember what the sense of urgency was for I clambered to my feet again and slipped the alarm clock into my apron pocket. It clinked against something. Withdrawing the object, I identified it to be a large tobacco pipe, like the one Sherlock Holmes used when tracking down his perps.

“Hah!” I burst out. “This is one weird movie. But what the hell!?”

I slid the pipe into the opposite apron pocket to even out the weight and advanced once more to the door in the trunk. The door swung surprisingly smoothly on the old hinges and a blast of musty, damp air slapped me in the face. Darkness loomed before me so I set one foot inside the door frame and started grasping the inside of the tree wall for a light switch. I could feel the cold outline of a light switch with my left hand and as I committed my weight to the foot inside the door the floor beneath me suddenly gave way and I was falling. Screaming in horror I grasped frantically for anything I could hold onto to stop my fall but there was nothing.

As if on cue to my dire situation the alarm clock in my pocket rang out with a loud “TICK! TOCK!”

The sound echoed in the dark bouncing off whatever walls were out of my reach. The sound pounded through my head again, adding to the agony of my seemingly endless descent. All of the sudden I landed in a crumpled heap on a cold, wet floor, the darkness still enveloping me. I had landed on the clock and a sharp pain rippled up my left side matching the throbbing in my head. Whimpering I rolled off the clock and reached up to feel a warm dribble of liquid emitting from my side. I snatched the clock from my pocket and in anger flung it across the room. It bounced off of what sounded like a wall and came clattering to a halt not far from where I was sitting.

“This better be fake blood!” I screamed up at the black hole, half expecting a light to switch on revealing a camera crew and a director sitting there announcing “CUT!”

I rolled back over onto my hands and knees and crawled forward not willing to find another gaping hole to disappear into again. Within seconds my outstretched hands brushed against a cold wall and grunting with effort I began to shimmy my way into a standing position. The pain in my side swept over me and I stood for a second to gain my bearings.  I ran my hand along the wall in search of a light switch and quickly felt the cold outline of a switch plate. Shouting in joy I flipped the switch and a warm light flooded the area to reveal a small room, not any bigger than a small bathroom.

There were no doors, no windows, and the only object in the room other than myself was that blasted alarm clock! I spied a small pool of blood where I had landed on the clock. Self-consciously I pressed my hand to my side to try and stop the bleeding. The clock was lying inches from my feet and I noticed the hands were moving even faster than before. I felt the blood rush to my head and before I could stop myself, I screamed out in rage.

“What the hell!? What kind of fucked up director lets their actors get hurt!? What about my stunt-double!?”

 I turned to the wall opposite the light switch and slammed my free fist against the cold marble. Except my fist didn’t stop! It disappeared into the marble and I stumbled forward. I clutched my fist back to my chest and stared at the marble as it closed back into place; healing itself. Bewildered I looked down at my fist and saw that it was eerily pale and covered in a blue liquid. It began to sting with an icy cold and in attempt to warm it I lifted my fist to my mouth to suck on it. As my tongue flicked across my knuckles, I felt a sudden tingling sensation on my tongue and I felt like it was starting to freeze. In unison my fist and tongue steadily grew colder and began to burn with the freezing sensation.

Gasping from the brain freeze that was creeping into my head I desperately clutched my right hand with my bloodied hand and lifted the wet fingers to my mouth to suck on their warmth. Somehow the metallic taste didn’t bother me and the blood felt soothing on my tongue. Almost immediately the burning on my fist and tongue subsided wherever the blood had touched. Staring in disbelief at the blood on my fist I rubbed it all the way down to my forearm and all pain, save for the pain in my side, subsided.

 This is crazy! I’m beginning to think this isn’t a movie after all! I thought as I turned my attention back to the wall. I walked around the room and cautiously pressed against the surfaces to see if there was any fake doors or hidden panels. Not finding anything promising I turned back to the liquid wall and knew what I needed to do. But it was manic! Reasoning with myself that this was my only option I focused my energy on what I had to do next and moved quickly to keep from talking myself out of it.

I limped over to the alarm clock and squatted as far as I could to keep from having to bend in the middle. Grasping the clock firmly in both hands I stood, raised my hands over my head, and with all my might hurled the clock as hard as I could against the floor. It hit the cold marble with a hard “SMACK” and glass skittered across the floor. Squatting quickly again I grabbed the clock and turned it over to find a large shard of class still wedged in the glass’s frame. The hands on the clock were rotating so rapidly I figured I had broken it.

Standing quickly my throbbing head began to pound harder, my heart raced, and my mind reeled in effort to catch up with my actions. I squeezed my eyes shut to try and drown out my doubts, raised the glass in my left hand, and with a scream of effort hurled the jagged edge into my fresh wound.

Red hot waves filled my vision, my stomach lurched, and I felt a dizzying blackness creep into my head.

“NO!” I screamed, forcing myself to stay conscious long enough to complete my task. “It has to be done this way!” I shouted to refocus my energy. I threw the shard of glass to the ground and dipped my shaking fingers in the pool of blood staining my once white apron. Working quickly, I rubbed copious amounts of blood on every inch of flesh I could reach, stripping as I went to make sure I missed not an inch. The pungent odor of metal wafted off my bloodied figure as I finished my mad race.

After I was content with my bloody mess, I grabbed my overalls and rustled through the pocket holding my tobacco pipe.

“AHA!” I shouted in triumph as I found a box of matches at the bottom of the pocket.

Instantly I regretted my outburst. I clutched my side as waves of pain rolled again through my torso and choked back puke that was lingering in my throat. I worked feverishly to light a match but my shaking hands betrayed me. I held my breath, focused on the strike pad, and finally, a match was lit! I grabbed the tobacco pipe, lit the crumpled brown leaves on fire, then standing I screamed again “It has to be this way” as I pinched my flesh together and seared the gaping hole shut with the burning leaves.

Once my flesh had cauterized, I leapt into my clothes as fast as my limp would let me, grabbed the mutilated alarm clock, and plunged through the liquid marble wall. A surge of cold liquid washed over my body and paralyzed my limbs as my body was transmitted once again through darkness. Yet this time it didn’t feel like falling; I was floating. But I was not burning; my manic plan had worked! My lungs screamed for air and I realized I was indeed floating in some kind of cold liquid. Not willing to die after my crazed efforts I willed my limbs to wake up. Coming out of my rigid state I began to swim as fast as my mutilated torso would allow me towards what I hoped was the surface.

Just when I thought I could not withstand the pain anymore and right as my lung felt as if they would fail me, I broke the surface. Gasping in the sweet, cold air I let myself float for a minute. Finding a second wind I located the shore and swam towards it. As soon as I felt the ground beneath my feet, I allowed the waves from the lake to drag my body the rest of the way. Coughing and clutching my side I crawled far enough away from the lake to keep from being sucked back in. The soft mud beneath me felt warm and welcoming and I allowed myself to rest.

After some time, I rolled over to discover a pool of the dark liquid. I grabbed a handful and splashed myself in attempt to revive a little energy. As the ripples in the pool died down the surface became taut and I could see the skies reflection. Wanting to take stalk of my own reflection I hovered to where I could see my face. I gasped. Instead of my reflection I saw the mutilated body of a middle-aged woman with lifeless eyes. I couldn’t pull my eyes away. She lurched forward with a bloodied hand rising out of the puddle and screamed “It has to be this way!” My head became light, my stomach lurched, and finally I emptied my stomach into the pool before giving in to blackness that flooded my vision. The last thing I heard before going under was the final “TICK! TOCK!” of the crushed clock.

 “Tweet!” I snapped out of my stupor, the pain in my side had subsided some and I peered through bleary eyes to see a small doggy door slide open and a lunch tray being hoisted thru. Lifting my tired head, I saw a corrections officer peer through the door with a whistle in her mouth. “Time to eat, bitch!” she hollered then slammed the door shut. I jumped from the sound and slowly came back to reality. The cold on my face was from the shackles on my wrists and the pain in my side was because I had been lying on my chains. As the padded door slid shut with a slam I shuttered. Everything flooded back to me, the knife, the blood on the walls, the look of horror on her face as she drew her last breath. I felt sick to my stomach as the pungent odor from my meal promised nothing but prolonged misery. I lifted myself head from my hard mattress, sat up slowly as the jingle of cold chains greeted my ears, and stared at the patterns my padded cell made. The only color present to break up the monotone cell came from the glowing orange of my jumpsuit, the sickening peach of my lunch tray, and the black hands ticking across the face of the clock on the wall. Every painfully fast second reminded me of time I could not buy back and every click of the minute hand drew me closer to my cold embrace with death.